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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685924">Where the Law Leaves Off</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/puck1919/pseuds/puck1919'>puck1919</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017), Leverage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Crime, F/M, Heist, Leverage AU, M/M, fusion crossover</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:42:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,384</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27685924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/puck1919/pseuds/puck1919</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The rich and powerful take what they want. We steal it back for you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daisy Duck/Donald Duck, Drake Mallard/Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gandra Dee, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Drake Mallard, Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera/Gandra Dee</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Where the Law Leaves Off</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So apparently by “take a break” I meant “I’m going to write 7k+ over the weekend”. This is mostly a test balloon, let me know if you want to see more!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was 10:38 in the morning and Donald Duck sat at the airport bar, whiskey in hand, barely awake. A short, flustered-looking rooster approached him. </p><p>“M-Mr. Duck?” </p><p>Donald sighed, setting the glass down.</p><p>“I’m sorry, I just— I know who you are,” the rooster said. “I’ve read about you. I know, for example, that you saved IYS, what, 20, 25 million when you found that stolen Monet? Then there was that identity fraud thing and then... And then I know when you needed them... What happened to your family—”</p><p>Donald slammed his fist on the bar. “You know the part of the conversation where I punch you in the neck nine or ten times? We’re coming up on that pretty quick.”</p><p>“No, no, no, I just—” The rooster sighed. “My name is Jubal Pomp. I want to offer you a job.”</p><p>“What’s the offer?” Donald asked.</p><p>“What do you know about airplane design?” Pomp asked.</p><p>Donald shrugged. “I could learn, you know, if you give me some pencils, one of those little rulers—”</p><p>“Someone stole my designs,” Pomp said.</p><p>Donald paused. “And you’d like me to find them.”</p><p>“No, I know where they are,” Pomp said. “I want you to steal them back.”</p><p>Donald blinked.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Donald looked over the Pierson building from an abandoned office on the other side of the street. He could see three people get out of a car one the top floor of the parking garage next door.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Pomp put a stack of folders on the bar.</p><p>“Look, are you sure that the designs got stolen?” Donald said. “Because there are easier ways to—”</p><p>“My engineer goes missing with all my files and then one week later Pierson announces an <em> identical </em> project,” Pomp said. </p><p>“Well, that’s a coincidence...” Donald muttered.</p><p>“I have a shareholder’s meeting at the end of the month,” Pomp said. “This has been the last few years of my <em> life</em>, and if I have nothing to show for it— just look at the people I’ve already hired!”</p><p>Donald looked at the files Pomp pushed towards him.</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve chased these guys a few— you got <em> Gandra</em>?”</p><p>“Is there anyone better?”</p><p>“Gandra’s <em> crazy</em>.”</p><p>“Which is why I’m asking you to help,” Pomp said.</p><p>“No.” Donald closed the folders and pushed them back to Pomp. “I am not a thief.”</p><p>“That’s <em> exactly </em> why I need you,” Pomp said. “I have thieves. I just need one honest man to watch them.”</p><p>“It’s not going to work,” Donald said. “These people you hired, they all have the same rep— they work alone. They always work alone, and they’re certainly not going to work for you.” </p><p>“They will for $300 thousand each,” Pomp said. “And for you, for running it? Double. And that’s just the salary— there’s a bonus. Pierson is insured by IYS.” </p><p>Donald raised an eyebrow.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Donald put on his headset. </p><p>“Okay, clear comms,” he said.</p><p>Across the street, on the roof of the Pierson building, Fenton looked at the headset and grimaced. </p><p>“Oh, <em> hell</em>, no,” Fenton said. “This tech is older than M’ma, I’ve got something <em> much </em> better.”</p><p>“No surprises, Fenton,” Donald said.</p><p>“I’ve been doing this since high school,” Fenton said. “I’m a total professional.”</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em> The guards approached the hotel room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “The information checked out,” the desk clerk said. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “But you didn’t actually see anyone?” one of the guards asked. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The guards busted down the door and found Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera lying on a couch, surrounded by women in Slave Leia bikinis. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Now do they look like the Featherweights to you?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Fenton waved his hand. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “This is not the room you’re looking for.” </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>Fenton opened a box with several earpieces in it and handed one to Drake.</p><p>“Bone conduction earpieces,” Fenton said. “Works off the vibrations in your jaw.” </p><p>“You’re not as useless as you look,” Drake said. </p><p>“Man, I don’t even know what you do,” Fenton said.</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em> Drake Mallard stepped into a bar. The fence was surrounded by goons. Drake adjusted his glasses.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “I’m here for the merchandise,” Drake said. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> The goons drew their guns. A few moments later, the goons were on the floor, their guns scattered, with a pile of magazines at Drake’s feet. The fence pulled the baseball card out of a briefcase and slid it across the table.  </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>Gandra swung down on the pipe she was perched on. </p><p>“Can I have one?” she asked.</p><p>Fenton chuckled. “You can have the whole box.”</p><p>Gandra grabbed an earpiece and swung back up.</p><p>“What’s she gonna think when she finds out you live with your mom?” Drake asked.</p><p>“Age of the geek, baby,” Fenton said. “We run the world.”</p><p>“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Drake muttered.</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em> Gandra’s foster parents were fighting again, but her focus was on the stuffed rabbit that her foster father was gripping by the neck. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, you want this?” he asked Gandra. “You don’t get bunny until you do what I say, so be a good girl. Or, I don’t know, a better thief.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Hours later, Gandra walked out of the house right before it exploded behind her. She hugged her stuffed rabbit tightly. </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>Gandra put on the rappelling rig she had brought.</p><p>“Last time I used this was Paris...” Gandra said. “2003, I think.”</p><p>“The Caravaggio?” Donald asked. “That was you?”</p><p>“Hey, man, are these things safe?” Drake asked Fenton, pointing to his ear.</p><p>“Oh, yeah,” Fenton said. “There might be some side effects. Nausea, weakness in your right side. Stroke. Stroke-y-ness.”</p><p>Drake sneered. “<em>Damnit</em>, Cabrera.”</p><p>“All right, everyone,” Donald said. “On my count. Gandra, no freelancing.”</p><p>“Relax, we know what we’re doing,” Drake said.</p><p>“Go in five,” Donald said. “Four.”</p><p>Gandra ran for the edge of the building and jumped. </p><p>“Three.”</p><p>“She’s gone!” Drake said.</p><p>“Son of a...” Donald muttered.</p><p>Drake and Fenton watched as Gandra flew down the side of the building. Fenton’s eyes were wide and he grinned.</p><p>“That’s twenty pounds of crazy in a five pound bag,” Drake said. </p><p>“I don’t care,” Fenton said.</p><p>The lines went tight and Gandra hung upside down outside an office window. She put a suction cup on the glass and pulled out a glass cutter. In one swift motion, she had drawn a circle around the suction cup. She grabbed the handle and the glass popped out with a small twist. She let go and the whole thing fell harmlessly to the ground. She swung inside, releasing the line and flipping over the desk.</p><p>“I’m in.”</p><p>“That’s great,” Drake growled. He and Fenton were inside the elevator shaft, standing on top of the elevator. “You wanna get going?”</p><p>The elevator jerked to life, headed down. </p><p>“The boys are on their way,” Gandra said. </p><p>“Where are we with security?” Donald asked.</p><p>Gandra looked at the screen from her spot in the junction room.</p><p>“They don’t see a thing.”</p><p>The elevator stopped and the doors opened. </p><p>“Floor 37, menswear, light bulbs, and secret stolen airplane plans,” Fenton said. Drake rolled his eyes, getting off the elevator.</p><p>“This is <em> exactly </em> why I work alone,” he said.</p><p>He and Fenton headed towards the server room. </p><p>Across the street, Donald looked at the screen mirroring what Gandra was seeing in the junction room. </p><p>“Any chatter on the security frequencies?” he asked.</p><p>“Nothing on my end,” Gandra said. </p><p>“There should be eight security guards in that room,” Donald said. “There are only four.”</p><p>“How can you tell?”</p><p>“Haircuts, Gandra, count the haircuts,” Donald said.</p><p>Gandra paused. “I would have missed that.”</p><p>“What?” Donald said.</p><p>“Nothing,” she said. “But where are the other four?”</p><p>“They must be doing their rounds early,” Drake said.</p><p>“Why would they do that?” she asked.</p><p>Donald paused. “The playoffs.”</p><p>He looked back at the feed showing him the security office. On one of the screens was a basketball game.</p><p>“Game five of the playoffs,” Donald said. “They’re doing their rounds early so that they can be back to watch the game. Gandra, run the cameras.”</p><p>She looked through the footage.</p><p>“They’re at the stairwell,” she said. “They’re on our floor!”</p><p>“Kill their radios,” he said.</p><p>Drake and Fenton got to the server room.</p><p>“What about us?” Drake asked.</p><p>“Fenton has to get into that server,” Donald said. “Use him as bait. You know what to do.”</p><p>“Right,” Drake said, handing Fenton a duffel bag and walking off.</p><p>“Wait, use <em> who </em> as bait?” Fenton asked. </p><p>The guards came around the corner, their weapons drawn.</p><p>“Hands up!” </p><p>Fenton exhaled, grabbing the straps of the duffel in one hand and raising his arms. Drake walked out behind the guards. Fenton dropped the bag.</p><p>One of the guards turned to aim at Drake. Drake jabbed him in the neck, grabbing his gun. He got the collar of the guard next to him and threw him against the wall. The two guards in front turned. Drake kicked one in the knee and he went down. The other he hit across the face with the gun he was holding. </p><p>The bag landed on the floor when the last guard fell. Drake released the clip from the gun he was holding and threw the empty gun over his shoulder.</p><p>“<em>That’s </em> what I do,” Drake said.</p><p>Fenton stared at him, wide-eyed.</p><p>“The job?” Drake said.</p><p>“Right, yes,” Fenton said.</p><p>He attached a device to the digital lock and the door popped open. Inside, he plugged a mini-laptop into the main server. </p><p>“I’ve got the files,” Fenton said. </p><p>“Drop the spike,” Donald said.</p><p>Fenton hit a button on his keyboard and the server audibly whirred and shut down.</p><p>“You give them a virus?” Drake asked.</p><p>“Babe, I gave ‘em more than one virus,” Fenton said. </p><p>Drake rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me ‘babe’.”</p><p>“Problem,” Gandra said. “Those guards you ganked reset security on this floor and every floor above us.”</p><p>Drake shook his head. “Every man for himself.”</p><p>“You go ahead, I’m the one with the merchandise,” Fenton said.</p><p>“Yeah, well I’m the one with an exit!” Gandra said.</p><p>“And I’m the one with the plan,” Donald said. “Now I know you <em> children </em> don’t play nice, but I need you to hold it together for exactly three more minutes. Everyone get to the elevator and head down. We’re going to run the burn scam.”</p><p>Drake and Fenton met Gandra at the elevator and got in. </p><p>“So, what, is this plan B?” Fenton asked.</p><p>“Actually, this would be plan G,” Donald said.</p><p>Gandra blinked. “How many plans do you have? Is there a plan M?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Donald said. “Fenton dies in plan M.”</p><p>Drake grinned. “I like plan M.”</p><p>Fenton shook his head. “That’s <em> cold</em>, babe.”</p><p>“<em>Don’t </em> call me ‘babe’.”</p><p>When the elevator doors opened on the ground floor, the three were dressed in business clothes and Gandra had a brace on her leg, a crutch, and a bandage across her beak. The guard that had come to check the elevator lowered his gun.</p><p>“<em>Nice</em>,” Drake said, scowling. “Why don’t you stare a little more?”</p><p>Fenton and Drake “helped” Gandra get off the elevator and move towards the exit.</p><p>“It’s fine, Tom,” Gandra said, choking up. “I understand.”</p><p>“It’s <em> not </em> fine,” Fenton sneered.</p><p>The guard backed up at the three left the building. Donald pulled up in the car and the three moved quickly to get in. Gandra tossed the crutch to Drake, who put it in the trunk. Donald drove off once everyone was in.</p><p>At a park somewhere else in the city, Fenton typed on the keyboard of his laptop.</p><p>“Come on, it’s only taking all night,” Donald said.</p><p>“This public wi-fi has really crappy bandwidth, hang on,” Fenton said. “And... sent.”</p><p>“Okay,” Donald said. “The money should be in your accounts later today.”</p><p>Fenton shut his laptop. “Anyone notice how hard we rocked last night?”</p><p>“Yeah, well, one show only,” Drake said. “No encores.”</p><p>“I already forgot your names,” Gandra said.</p><p>“It was kinda cool,” Fenton said to Donald. “Being on the same side.”</p><p>“We are not on the same side,” Donald said. “I am not a thief.”</p><p>“Come on, Donald,” Gandra said. “Admit it— wasn’t it a little fun to play the Black King, instead of the White Knight?”</p><p>Donald looked away, not answering. Gandra shrugged. The four turned and walked away.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Donald woke several hours later to the sound of a phone ringing. His hotel bed was covered in empty mini bar bottles. He sighed, fighting through the hangover to pick up the phone. </p><p>“You <em> screwed </em> me!”</p><p>Donald winced at Jubal Pomp’s yelling.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“The designs never got to me,” Pomp said.</p><p>“N... no, I watched them go out,” Donald said. </p><p>“I don’t know what you saw, but I received <em> nothing </em>!” Pomp said.</p><p>“I said you couldn’t trust them,” Donald said.</p><p>“I didn’t need to trust them, that’s what I had you for,” Pomp said. “I am freezing the payments.”</p><p>“Alright,” Donald groaned. “Okay, I’ll come over and we’ll work this out.”</p><p>“No, do <em> not </em> come here,” Pomp said. “There’s an old aircraft facility outside the city, I’ll text you the address. Be there in <em> one hour </em>.”</p><p>Pomp hung up and Donald put the phone down.</p><p>“Okay,” he muttered. “Get. <em> Up</em>.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Donald could hear voices echoing from the main room of the warehouse and he groaned, because he knew those voices. </p><p>“What did you do to the files?” Fenton asked.</p><p>“You had them the entire time,” Drake said. “Get that thing out of my face.”</p><p>Donald turned the corner and saw Drake ostensibly being held at gunpoint by Fenton, if it weren’t for the fact that Fenton obviously had never held a gun before and Drake didn’t project anything more than mild annoyance. Drake looked over at Donald.</p><p>“You do this?” Drake asked. “You’re the only one who’s ever worked both sides.”</p><p>“I am not a thief,” Donald said. “You seem pretty calm, considering.”</p><p>Drake glanced at the gun. “Safety’s on.”</p><p>“Like I’m falling for that,” Fenton said.</p><p>“No, he’s right,” Donald said.</p><p>Fenton checked the safety and Donald grabbed it out of his hands.</p><p>“You’ll shoot your eye out,” Donald said. He looked to Drake. “You armed?”</p><p>Drake shook his head. “I don’t like guns.”</p><p>He nodded at something past Donald’s shoulder. Donald turned around and saw Gandra, walking in with another gun aimed at Donald.</p><p>“My money’s not in my account,” Gandra said. “That makes me cry. In my special, <em> angry</em>, place.”</p><p>Donald calmly stepped forward and put his hand on Gandra’s gun and slowly lowered it.</p><p>“So you came here to get paid?” Donald asked. “All of you?”</p><p>“Hell no,” Fenton said. “Wire transfer. Global economy.”</p><p>“This was a walk away,” Drake said. “I’m never supposed to see any of you again.”</p><p>“So the only reason you’re here is that you didn’t get paid...” Donald started to laugh. “...and you’re pissed off! In fact, the only way to get us all in the same place is to tell us that we’re not... getting... paid.”</p><p>They all had the same thought at once and ran. </p><p>Someone standing outside the warehouse would have seen three people run out before the building exploded.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Donald woke up in a hospital room, handcuffed to a bed.</p><p>“What the—?”</p><p>“You don’t like hospitals, do you?” Drake asked. </p><p>“Not so much, no,” Donald said.</p><p>Drake was handcuffed to the room chair. </p><p>“Where are the others?” Donald asked. </p><p>Drake nodded towards a vent in the wall. “Next room.”</p><p>“Cops were there as soon as we woke up,” Fenton said, his voice coming through the vent.</p><p>“Took us to the county hospital,” Gandra said.</p><p>“Have we been processed?” Donald asked.</p><p>Drake held up his right hand, black ink staining the feathers on the ends of his fingers.</p><p>“If anyone above local LEO’s run us, we’re screwed,” Fenton said.</p><p>“How long?” Gandra asked.</p><p>Donald could hear Fenton shrug. “Thirty, thirty-five minutes depending on the software.”</p><p>“Cops printed us twenty minutes ago,” Drake said.</p><p>“So we have ten minutes or we all go to jail,” Donald said.</p><p>“I can take these guys,” Drake said.</p><p>“No way,” Gandra said. “You kill anyone, you mess up my getaway.”</p><p>“Hey, I’m still handcuffed here,” Fenton said. “I’ve got no equipment, I gotta go to the bathroom...”</p><p>“We’re getting out of this together,” Donald said.</p><p>“That was a one-time deal,” Drake said.</p><p>“Look, the problem is, you guys only know what you can do,” Donald said. “I know what all of you can do, that gives me the edge.”</p><p>“I don’t trust these guys,” Gandra said.</p><p>Donald paused. “Do you trust me?”</p><p>The other three paused.</p><p>“Of course,” Fenton said.</p><p>“You’re an honest man,” Drake said.</p><p>Donald nodded. “Okay. Gandra, get me a phone.”</p><p>Gandra sighed. “This is going to suck...”</p><p>“What are you— oh, <em> hell</em>, no!” Donald could hear Fenton’s voice over the sound of Gandra wretching. “Oh, that is <em> nasty</em>.”</p><p>The doctor came in soon after. </p><p>“Nausea could mean a concussion,” the doctor said. “If you feel any more, or if you start getting blurry vision, just tell the officers, okay?”</p><p>“Sure,” Gandra said. </p><p>The doctor left the room and a phone poked through the vent. Donald grabbed it and tossed it to Drake.</p><p>“They’re expecting a phone call, right?” Donald said.</p><p>Drake dialed the phone.</p><p>“Hello, this is Detective Lieutenant West with the Illinois State Police,” Drake said in an emphasized southern drawl. “Yeah, those prints you sent us are throwing up all kinds of red flags, I got a call for you from the FBI, can you hold son?”</p><p>He handed the phone off to Donald. Donald cleared his throat.</p><p>“Yes, this is Deputy Director Ward of the FBI,” Donald said. “Is our man alright?”</p><p>“Sorry, sir?” the officer on the other end said.</p><p>“One of those men you have, he’s one of ours,” Donald said. “He’s been in deep cover for over three years.”</p><p>“Seriously?”</p><p>“That’s right,” Donald said. “You should be receiving a fax any moment confirming what I’ve told you.”</p><p>“Sure,” the officer said. “Yeah, I... I have it right here.”</p><p>“Now most of what I’ve told you is classified,” Donald said. “Can I trust you?”</p><p>“Oh, yes, sir!”</p><p>In a few minutes, Fenton was “arresting” the other three and taking them out to the cop’s car.</p><p>“Keep fighting the good fight,” Fenton said, shaking the officer’s hand.</p><p>“Yes, sir,” he said.</p><p>Fenton got in the car and they drove off as a nurse came out to the officer.</p><p>“Sir, you have a call from the state police.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Fenton took them to a sparsely furnished apartment downtown. </p><p>“Four first class tickets to anywhere but here, coming up,” he said. </p><p>“I’m going to beat Pomp so bad, even the people that look like him are gonna bleed,” Drake said.</p><p>“You’re not going to get within a hundred feet of him,” Gandra said. “He knows our faces, our MOs...”</p><p>“He tried to kill us!” Drake said.</p><p>“And, more importantly, he didn’t pay us,” Gandra said.</p><p>Drake blinked. “<em>How </em> is that more important?”</p><p>“I take that personally,” Gandra said.</p><p>“There’s something wrong with you...”</p><p>Donald leaned over to Fenton. “Whose place is this again?”</p><p>“Oh, it’s mine,” Fenton said, walking over to his computer. “Look, I went through the files, and something didn’t add up. Pomp’s story is about 90% true— he is the head of Bering Aerospace, big rival to Pierson, but look at this.”</p><p>He brought up a new video on the monitor. A Pierson representative was talking to journalists on the news.</p><p>“We’ve lost research that we’ve been working on for years,” the rep said. “Our servers have been sabotaged. We intend to pursue these perpetrators tot he full extent of the law.”</p><p>Fenton closed out the video.</p><p>“Could be a cover,” Donald said.</p><p>Fenton shook his head. “Internal time stamps for the project show them on Pierson’s servers since 2003. There’s no reason to fake those.”</p><p>“So we didn’t steal the plans back?” Drake said. </p><p>“No, we were just stealing them,” Gandra said.</p><p>“Why would Pomp lie to us?” Fenton asked.</p><p>“Because you’re thieves,” Donald said. “He tells you the truth, you know he’s just as bad as you are. He tells you this story, you see just another civilian in over his head, and you don’t see the double-cross.”</p><p>“And why didn’t you see it?” Gandra asked.</p><p>“Because I am not a thief,” Donald said. He took the mouse and clicked through to another article.</p><p>“Okay, look.” Fenton grabbed some papers. “I’ve got tickets to London, Paris, Rome, and Madrid, with temporary IDs that will get you through customs.”</p><p>“You’re running,” Donald said.</p><p>“Like a bat out of hell,” Drake said.</p><p>“No, no,” Donald said, pointing to the picture of Pomp in the news article. “<em> He’s </em> running. He’s got his waddle tied to the stock price like a cinder block, shareholder meeting coming up. No, we can’t let this guy have any time to cool down.”</p><p>“You want to run a game on this guy?” Drake said. </p><p>“I mean, sure,” Donald said. “How do you think I got all that stolen art back? All those investigations? This guy is greedy, he thinks he’s smart, he’s the best kind of mark.”</p><p>“He does think he got rid of us,” Gandra said, starting to grin.</p><p>“Element of surprise,” Fenton said. </p><p>“What’s in it for me?” Drake asked. </p><p>“Payback,” Donald said. “And if it goes right, a whole lot of money.”</p><p>“And me?” Gandra asked.</p><p>“A whole lot of money,” Donald said. “And if it goes right, payback. Fenton?”</p><p>Fenton shrugged. “I was just gonna send a thousand dirty magazines to his office, but hell, yeah.”</p><p>“What’s in it for you?” Drake asked Donald. </p><p>Donald looked away. “He used my sister.”</p><p>He shook his head and looked back up.</p><p>“Okay, then,” Donald said. “Let’s go get Daisy.”</p><p>The others paused.</p><p>“Who’s Daisy?” Drake asked.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The Tudor Rose theatre was a small black box in the center of Chicago. The four stood in the back as a duck with pure white feathers in a red medieval dress stepped onto the stage. Daisy brushed her hair back and began her lines.</p><p>“<em>Come</em>, you spirits who... <em> tend </em> on mortal thoughts,” Daisy recited. She winced. “Un-<em>sex </em> me here, and fill me! Ah... from the crown! To the toe. Top-full of direst... Make <em> thick </em> my blood...”</p><p>Drake leaned over to Donald, who was the only one in the audience smiling. </p><p>“This is the worst actress I’ve ever seen,” Drake said.</p><p>“Is she injured?” Gandra asked. “In the head?”</p><p>“This is not her stage,” Donald said.</p><p>After the bloodbath and the end of the play, the four waited outside the stage door.</p><p>“No,” Drake said. “I vote no.”</p><p>“She is very awful,” Fenton said.</p><p>“Gandra’s right, Pomp knows our faces,” Donald said. </p><p>The stage door opened and Daisy stepped out. Donald clapped and stepped forward. She looked up at him and smiled.</p><p>“My only fan,” she said.</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em> Daisy Duck cut at the frame around the painting. Donald burst into the room and she drew her gun and fired, hitting him in the arm. She turned to run and another shot went off, going through her leg. She turned around. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why you—!” </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>“I’m a citizen now,” Daisy said. “Honest.”</p><p>Donald shrugged. “I’m not.”</p><p>She blinked. “You’re playing my side?”</p><p>Donald smiled at her. She smiled back. </p><p>“I always knew you had it in you,” she said.</p><p>“You in?” he asked.</p><p>“Oh, I wouldn’t miss this,” she said.</p><p>He offered his arm and she took it. </p><p>“Alright, let’s break the law just one more time,” Donald said.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Back at Fenton’s loft, the team watched Fenton pull up information on Jubal Pomp.</p><p>“Jubal Pomp, executive Vice President of Bering Aerospace in charge of new technology,” Fenton said. “Standard rich kid, trust fund, Yale MBA.”</p><p>“Now, when was the last time you met a Jubal,” Donald said.</p><p>“Vietnam,” Drake said. “Town called Banhao Zay.”</p><p>“Chinese border,” Daisy said.</p><p>Drake paused, almost smiling. “That’s an odd thing for you to know.”</p><p>“That’s an odd place for you to be,” Daisy said, smiling back. </p><p>“Now, Bering is one of the biggest names in government contracts when it comes to planes,” Fenton said. “They’ve got a ton of DOD research projects, all <em> highly </em>classified.”</p><p>“Can we use that?” Gandra asked.</p><p>“No, Pomp’s exclusively part of their commercial airline business,” Fenton said.</p><p>“Now, Fenton, when you sent Pomp the designs, you weren’t supposed to make any copies,” Donald said.</p><p>“Of course not, that would be wrong,” Fenton said, grinning.</p><p>“Show me your copies.”</p><p>Fenton brought up the copies on the screen, looking almost sheepish.</p><p>“It’s a plane,” Drake said. </p><p>“Not just any plane,” Donald said. He got up to get a closer look at the screen. “That’s a short range domestic airliner— commuter flights, usually one or two hours. It’s the fastest growing sector of the industry. Look, it’s got a carbon fiber nose, titanium wrap...”</p><p>Donald looked to the rest of the team, all showing various stages of confusion. He shrugged.</p><p>“You pick up a few things here and there,” he said.</p><p>“<em>You </em> pick up a <em> lot </em> of things,” Fenton said.</p><p>“Ha!” Gandra laughed.</p><p>“So Bering and Pierson were head-to-head in this for the past five years,” Fenton said. “Each trying to get ahead of the other. And this industry is worth, like, a gazillion dollars, so whoever gets there first...”</p><p>“So he has a rival,” Donald said. “One that pisses him off enough to steal their designs.”</p><p>“What are you thinking?” Daisy asked.</p><p>“Nigerians,” Donald said. “Nigerians will do nicely.”</p><p>Donald walked away from the others. The rest all looked at Daisy.</p><p>“Oh, he hasn’t changed a <em> bit</em>,” she said.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The next day, Pomp walked into his office suite. His secretary looked up.</p><p>“Oh, Mr. Pomp, your 9 o’clock is here,” she said. </p><p>“My 9 o’clock—?”</p><p>He went into the office proper and Daisy stood up from the chair she was in. </p><p>Back in Fenton’s apartment, Donald looked over Fenton’s shoulder as he typed on his computer.</p><p>“Get ready for a mountain of suck,” Fenton muttered.</p><p>Daisy held out her hand. </p><p>“Ana Gunschtot,” she said with a perfect South African accent. “African Commercial Transport and Trade Initiative.”</p><p>Fenton blinked.</p><p>“Government?” Pomp asked.</p><p>“No, no,” she said. “Private trade consortium. We’re looking to encourage infrastructure development and economic renewal.”</p><p>“And what does that mean in English?” Pomp asked.</p><p>“We create jobs and trade in Africa,” she said.</p><p>“She’s not awful,” Fenton said.</p><p>“<em>This </em> is her stage,” Donald said. “When she’s breaking the law, Daisy Duck is the best actress you’ve never seen.”</p><p>“We aim to keep the graft and stealing manageable,” Daisy said.</p><p>“Keep graft and stealing manageable? In Africa?” Pomp said, shaking his head. “I’m not sure anyone can help you with that.”</p><p>“Come on,” Daisy said. “Let’s talk somewhere less formal, shall we?”</p><p>She left the office and Pomp stuttered. </p><p>“Um, sor— Miss Gunschtot?”</p><p>He followed her out. </p><p>“Okay,” Donald said. “Now.”</p><p>Fenton hit a key and Pomp’s secretary’s computer crashed, the blue screen of death popping up on the monitor.</p><p>“Oh, no,” she muttered. “No, no, no.”</p><p>She hit several keys and moved the mouse around. She picked up the phone and dialed IT.</p><p>“Start the intercept,” Donald said.</p><p>Fenton caught the call and redirected it to Gandra.</p><p>“Hello, IT?” Gandra said.</p><p>“Yeah, this is Jubal Pomp’s office,” the secretary said. “My computer just crashed.”</p><p>“Have you tried turning it off and on again?” Gandra asked.</p><p>Fenton grinned. “That’s a computer thing, I told her to say that.”</p><p>“Good for you,” Donald said.</p><p>“Can you send someone up?” the secretary asked.</p><p>“We have someone on your floor already,” Gandra said.</p><p>After a few minutes, Drake walked into the office suite in a polo and glasses. The secretary blushed.</p><p>“Somebody call IT?” he asked.</p><p>“Shouldn’t I be playing the computer guy?” Fenton asked.</p><p>“No, I need you to actually <em> be </em> the computer guy,” Donald said.</p><p>Drake knelt down to get at the secretary’s CPU. She lightly touched his shoulder.</p><p>“You’re... really strong for an IT guy,” she said, giggling.</p><p>“Yeah, I like to work out,” Drake grinned. “I like dressing up as Darkwing Duck and going to the conventions and stuff. Now, let me show you how to reconnect to the network...”</p><p>Fenton put a hand over his beak and leaned back in his chair. Donald rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Let’s try to not break our hacker in the middle of our crime?” Donald said.</p><p>While Drake had the secretary’s attention, Gandra slipped down into Pomp’s office from the ducts. She plugged a USB into his computer and planted a bug under his desk. She slipped back out through the ducts.</p><p>Outside, Daisy and Pomp walked along the river. </p><p>“I represent a group of investors who are looking to start an airline for short commuter flights in Africa,” Daisy said.</p><p>“Johannesburg?” Pomp asked.</p><p>“Okay, he’s testing you,” Donald said. “You want Bloemfontein.”</p><p>Daisy shook her head. “Keep away from the hubs. Revitalize the local airports. In South Africa, Bloemfontein, for example. But it’s really Nigeria we’re focused on.”</p><p>“Most of their airports are a mess,” Pomp said.</p><p>“We believe new airplanes will revitalize interest in renovation,” Daisy said. “And will make customers more comfortable while we renew old runways.”</p><p>“I didn’t say anything about new airplanes,” Pomp said.</p><p>“Jubal, you and your chief engineer are scheduled to speak at your next shareholder meeting,” Daisy said. “This is not my first time round the Horn, you know.”</p><p>“I think you know more about my business than I do,” Pomp said.</p><p>“I’ve done my homework,” Daisy said. “I find you fascinating.”</p><p>“Well, miss Gunshot—”</p><p>“Gunschtot,” she said gently.</p><p>“Sorry,” he said.</p><p>“Ana.” She smiled.</p><p>“Ana,” he said. “Thank you. How about this— if we announce a new product, you can buy as many as your little heart desires.”</p><p>“I see...” Daisy said.</p><p>“Hit him with it,” Donald said..</p><p>“Except we’d also like to build the planes.”</p><p>Pomp blinked. “I’m sorry?”</p><p>“Yes, built in Africa, flown in Africa,” she said. “Sell the rest around the world. More jobs and better for local economies.”</p><p>“That’s very ambitious,” he said. “Do you have the facilities to support that?”</p><p>“Ah, we can easily raise the money for new facilities,” she said. “So long as we are certain that we will get the contracts...”</p><p>“That’s my girl,” Donald said.</p><p>“Ana, I’m really sorry,” Pomp said. “But I can’t help you.”</p><p>Fenton sighed. “Nice try, man.”</p><p>“Wait for it,” Donald said.</p><p>“I understand,” she said. “I’ll take it to Pierson.”</p><p>Pomp paused. “Sorry?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she said. “They’re known innovators, have a history of long-term investments. Willing to take risks. Yes, I’m sure they’ll be a better fit.”</p><p>Pomp exhaled. “I know you’re manipulating me. I’m aware of it.”</p><p>“I should hope so,” Daisy said. “Hundreds of millions of dollars in new contracts. A lot of good press. All at your door.”</p><p>“Okay, I’ll take the meeting,” Pomp said, grinning. </p><p>Daisy smiled. “I’ll have my office call yours. Day after tomorrow?”</p><p>“Sounds good,” he said. “Look forward to doing business with you.”</p><p>He walked back to his office and Daisy smiled. </p><p>“We’re in.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Donald looked through Fenton’s kitchen for a drink, but the only thing he could find was orange soda. Drake walked over and handed him a beer.</p><p>“It’ll do,” Donald said.</p><p>“You look better than when you started,” Drake said. “You found out Pomp was a bastard and now your conscience is clear to take him down.”</p><p>“Something like that,” Donald said. </p><p>“Look, I’m sorry about what happened to your sister,” Drake said.</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em> Donald gaped at the mortician. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What do you mean, she’s not here?” </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>“I don’t know what I’d do if something like that happened to my—”</p><p>“You don’t know anything about that,” Donald said, his voice tight.</p><p>“Oh, come on,” Drake said. “A guy like you goes off the streets, a lot of people like us notice. How did the insurance company justify—?”</p><p>“Drake, we are not friends,” Donald said.</p><p>Drake paused. “Right. Cause you have so many of those.”</p><p>Drake walked away as Daisy came up with one of the earpieces.</p><p>“Help me with this?” she asked.</p><p>“Well, Fenton—”</p><p>“Donny, please,” she said, pouting a little. </p><p>He sighed and helped put the earpiece in her ear. His hand rested on her hair and she looked up into his eyes.</p><p>“Now you really are in my head,” she said, her voice low.</p><p>Donald opened his beak to say something, but Daisy walked away. Donald sighed. Fenton rolled past on his computer chair. </p><p>“<em>Ooh</em>...”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Donald and Fenton sat outside at a cafe across the street from the building that Jubal Pomp parked in front of.</p><p>“He’s on site,” Donald said. </p><p>Up in the office, Daisy and Drake looked at each other. </p><p>“We’re not ready!” Drake said.</p><p>“If Daisy isn’t down there to meet him, he’s going to try and look up the office in the building directory,” Donald said. “We are not in the building directory.”</p><p>“Why not?” Drake asked. </p><p>“Um, cause they’re fake offices?” Fenton said.</p><p>“Okay, Gandra, you have ten seconds to get Daisy down to the lobby,” Donald said. “I’ll distract him.”</p><p>Gandra ran out of the stairwell and handed Daisy a harness. Daisy held it between her thumb and forefinger.</p><p>“What is this for?” she asked.</p><p>“<em>Speed</em>.”</p><p>Donald pulled out a collapsible baton and walked towards the street. Fenton booked it down the street in the opposite direction. Donald smashed the baton into a car window, shattering it. The car alarm started to go off and Jubal Pomp barely missed a step. Donald went down the sidewalk, smashing more windows as he went. Pomp walked up to the building directory and started to type on the keyboard. Daisy stumbled out of the stairwell behind him, fixing her hair and smoothing out her skirt before dropping into character.</p><p>“Jubal!” she said. “Our offices are on the tenth floor.”</p><p>“Ah!” he said. “Um, you have a glow.”</p><p>“Just... excited!” she said, breathlessly.</p><p>The two of them got in the elevator as Gandra left the stairwell with an extra harness and a length of rope. She left the building and joined Fenton and Donald on the sidewalk. </p><p>“Nice work,” Donald said. </p><p>“Yeah,” Gandra laughed. “Not bad for a first time— thought she was going to break a leg.”</p><p>“And where did you go?” Donald asked Fenton.</p><p>“Hey, the white guy starts getting crazy with a baton, the brown guy gets the hell outta dodge,” Fenton said.</p><p>In the elevator, Daisy turned to Pomp.</p><p>“Of course, there’s one more thing,” Daisy said. “The gentlemen presenting this opportunity to work with their government, they will expect, well, a certain compensation. Not a bribe, of course.”</p><p>“A finder’s fee,” Pomp said.</p><p>“Exactly,” Daisy said. </p><p>“I thought your job was to eliminate that sort of thing,” he said.</p><p>“Oh, no,” she said. “My job is to make it manageable.”</p><p>She took him into the office conference room, where several African Greys and a few dogs were waiting for them.</p><p>“Mr. Pomp,” one of the African Grey’s approached him. “We are honored by your presence today.”</p><p>“Not at all,” Pomp said, shaking his hand. “The honor is mine, getting in on the ground floor of something like this.”</p><p>“Shall we, then?” Daisy said.</p><p>Drake left the office building and joined the others.</p><p>“How is it going?” he asked.</p><p>“She’s wrapping it up,” Donald said.</p><p>“So what do you think?” Pomp asked.</p><p>“Yes, we can definitely repurpose those factories,” the lead African Grey said. “I think we will be able to do a lot of business together.”</p><p>“About the... other matter,” Daisy said.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Daisy picked up something from the African Grey. She handed Pomp an envelope. He opened the envelope and found a card that read $1,000,000. </p><p>“Is it agreeable?” Daisy asked.</p><p>“Oh, I think we can work something out,” Pomp said.</p><p>“Wonderful,” she said.</p><p>A half hour later, Pomp got in his car and drove off. Daisy joined the others outside.</p><p>“We got him?” Donald asked.</p><p>“We <em> own </em> him,” Daisy said. </p><p>“Okay, gang,” Donald said. “We’ve got a lot of work to do for tomorrow.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Pomp brought his engineer into his office. </p><p>“This is insane,” the engineer said. “We’re risking <em> everything </em>—”</p><p>Pomp waved him off and pointed under his desk at the bug.</p><p>“What is—?”</p><p>“Shh!” </p><p>Pomp took the engineer outside the office door.</p><p>“It’s a transmitter,” Pomp said. “They’ve been intending to everything I’ve been saying.”</p><p>“Who’s been listening?” the engineer asked.</p><p>“Who do you think?” Pomp pulled out a still from security footage of Daisy talking to Donald. </p><p>“They’ve been trying to hustle me,” Pomp said. “There is no African Commercial Trade Initiative. I mean, an offer like this the same week that I meet with the shareholders? The bug, the offices, the cash bribes— Nigerians! Nigerians, for god’s sake! It’s like those email scams.”</p><p>“So what do we do?”</p><p>“Call the FBI,” Pomp said. “This ends tomorrow.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Daisy walked through the shareholder’s event, a glass of champagne in hand. She zeroed in on Pomp, who held a smug, self-satisfied look on his face.</p><p>“Well, aren’t you the cat that ate the canary?” she said. </p><p>“Does it show?” he asked.</p><p>“Horrible poker-face,” she said. </p><p>“Stock jumped 15 points,” he said. “So you want to get this thing done?”</p><p>“Now?” she asked. “You have the whole payment?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” he said. “I want to make the announcement today, get even better headlines. I’ll take them into a conference room, away from this. Let’s do it!”</p><p>“I’ll be right back,” Daisy said.</p><p>She went over to the Nigerians and spoke with them. Pomp lead them up to a conference room in the office. </p><p>“I assume we all understand the terms of our agreement?” one of the dogs asked.</p><p>“Well, I’m afraid the exact terms of the agreement are these,” Pomp said. </p><p>Pomp pressed a button on the conference room phone and several FBI agents walked into the room.</p><p>“FBI, don’t move.”</p><p>One of the FBI agents turned to Pomp. “You Jubal Pomp?”</p><p>“Yes, I’m fine, thank—”</p><p>“You’re under arrest,” the agent said.</p><p>“Wait, what?”</p><p>The agent grabbed Pomp’s arm.</p><p>“No, the criminals are right there!” Pomp gestured at the Nigerians, who glared at him. “Look, I spoke to Special Agent Higgins—”</p><p>“<em>I’m </em> Special Agent Higgins,” Higgins said, pulling out his badge. “You are under arrest for soliciting a bribe from these Nigerian Government officials.”</p><p>“They’re not Nigerians!” Pomp protested.</p><p>“Of course we are,” the lead African Grey stood up and pulled out his passport. </p><p>“Your woman knew that when she contacted us,” one of the dogs said. </p><p>“<em>My </em> woman?” Pomp said. “No, Ana, she... She works for them! Ana? Ana!”</p><p>He looked around, but “Ana Gunschtot” was nowhere to be seen.”</p><p>“She contacted us on <em> your </em> behalf,” the African Grey said. “She said she worked directly under <em> you</em>.”</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em> Daisy greeted the Nigerians in the fake office. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Ana Gunschtot,” she said. “Director of Acquisitions under Jubal Pomp.” </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>Pomp blinked. “The shareholders...”</p><p>He ran out of the room. Higgins rolled his eyes and followed him. </p><p>Pomp ran out to the shareholder event, the FBI and the Nigerians trailing behind him.</p><p>“Nothing to worry about!” Pomp said, seeing people looking at the FBI with concern. “Just a... a permit problem!”</p><p>“Anyone else here involved in the bribe?” Higgins asked.</p><p>“Bribe?” Pomp laughed loudly. “Bribe? There’s no bribe!”</p><p>He shook his head.</p><p>“<em>I never accepted a bribe!</em>” he hissed at Higgins.</p><p>“I handed this man an envelope,” the African Grey said, “with a cashiers check for $200,000!”</p><p>“I... I wasn’t...”</p><p>—</p><p>
  <em> Daisy picked up something from the African Grey. She switched that envelope with another as she walked towards Pomp. She handed Pomp an envelope. He opened the envelope and found a card that read $1,000,000.  </em>
</p><p>—</p><p>“I didn’t...”</p><p>“This would look a lot better if you didn’t cash that check,” Higgins said. “Do you still have it?”</p><p>“I never got a check...” Pomp said.</p><p>The Nigerians looked incensed. Higgins turned to one of the other agents.</p><p>“Make sure you get his computer,” Higgins said.</p><p>“You can’t take my computer!” Pomp said. “Not without a warrant.”</p><p>Higgins paused. “This company has government contracts. There are very serious rules regarding contact with foreign nationals. The <em> Patriot </em> Act applies here, my friend. Sir, I can take your <em> underpants</em>.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Donald met James Pierson in the abandoned office across the street from the Pierson building. He handed Pierson a handful of hard drives.</p><p>“Now I understand that your research was completely wiped out,” Donald said. “You’ll find complete copies on those hard drives, along with absolute proof that they were on Bering’s computers. Should be good for a couple of lawsuits.”</p><p>“I drop the investigation of all parties involved with the original theft,” Pierson said.</p><p>Donald shrugged. “Seems fair. You got your property back.”</p><p>“I assume you and your people would require a... commission?”</p><p>Donald started to walk away. “This particular project runs on an alternative revenue stream.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Pomp had collapsed on a chair as he watched FBI crime scene techs rifle through his office. His phone rang and he picked it up.</p><p>“You should have just paid us,” Donald said.</p><p>Pomp sat up. “I found the bug.”</p><p>“Oh, you found the bug with the blinking light,” Donald said. “Yeah, we wanted you to figure some of it out. Then we just gave you what you were expecting.”</p><p>“I am Jubal Pomp, I am going to beat this.”</p><p>“Aren’t you forgetting about the bribe?” Donald asked.</p><p>“What—?” Pomp cut himself off when he saw the FBI techs pull stacks of cash out of his desk drawers.</p><p>“Yeah, that’s not all of it,” Donald said. “Daisy kept some to buy a truly impressive amount of shoes. See, if a company’s stock price falls ten, fifteen points in one day, you sell short, make some cash. If it’s going to fall thirty percent, you can make <em> shattering </em> amounts of money. We didn’t need you to be arrested, we just needed the FBI to show up and scare your investors. You going to jail was just a bonus.”</p><p>“I go down—”</p><p>“Oh, don’t bother,” Donald said. “No, I wouldn’t say anything about us to the feds. Next time, we won’t be nice.”</p><p>Donald hung up and looked around at the team. Fenton handed out envelopes to everyone. Gandra looked to Daisy.</p><p>“What is it with women and shoes?” she asked. </p><p>“There’s something wrong with you,” Daisy said.</p><p>“That’s what <em> I </em> said,” Drake said. </p><p>Donald nodded, opening the envelope. “Alright, job well— holy—!”</p><p>“There was an overlap in the London market,” Fenton said. “Validation carried over to NASQUAC and... well, I’m <em> very </em> good at what I do.”</p><p>“This is the score,” Gandra said. “<em>The </em> score.”</p><p>“Age of the geek, baby,” Fenton said, shrugging.</p><p>“Someone kiss this man so I don’t have to,” Drake said, grinning.</p><p>“This is retirement money,” Fenton said. “Go legit and buy an <em> island </em> money.”</p><p>“Right...” Donald said. “Well... pleasure working with you.”</p><p>“One show only,” Drake said. “No encores.”</p><p>“I already forgot your names...” Gandra said.</p><p>The team split up. Donald walked along the park path. Fenton popped up behind him.</p><p>“You know, I’ve never had that much fun on a job...”</p><p>“It’s a walk away,” Donald said.</p><p>“And I got focus issues, you kept me right on!”</p><p>Gandra joined them.</p><p>“See, I’m really good at one thing—”</p><p>“Gandra...” Donald groaned.</p><p>“Just one thing! But you, you’re good at a <em> lot </em> of things, and I can’t stop doing my one thing, I can’t <em> retire</em>!”</p><p>Drake walked up beside Donald.</p><p>“You know what I’m thinking?”</p><p>“Not really,” Donald said.</p><p>“How long until you fall apart again?”</p><p>“I’m touched,” Donald said, deadpan.</p><p>“Guy like you can’t be out of the game,” Drake said. “That’s why you were a wreck, you need the chase.”</p><p>“I’ll manage,” Donald said.</p><p>His phone rang and he stopped to pull it out. He knew that number. Looking up, Daisy was sitting on the park bench in front of them. She stood and walked over to Donald.</p><p>“You pick the jobs,” she said.</p><p>“I help people,” Donald said. “My job is to take down the bad guys.”</p><p>“Then go find some bad guys,” Daisy said. “Bad guys have money.”</p><p>“Do you even know what happened to me?” he asked.</p><p>“The same as always: you put the weight of the world on your shoulders,” Daisy said. “And no, you can’t right <em> every </em> wrong. But perhaps we can provide... <em> leverage</em>.”</p>
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